


a stranger stares back

by bastards



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (& his perspective of who tommy is), Character Study, Dream Smp, Friendship study, Gen, Light Angst, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, author is once again a tubbo apologist, exile arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastards/pseuds/bastards
Summary: Tubbo knows that Dream’s words are true. Tommy glares at him from behind his cage of obsidian, fingers wrapped around iron bars. His eyes are angry and ice-cold and defiant, and Tubbo can’t look at him anymore.On what to do when the corrupt god of the server wants his best friend exiled, and Tubbo has to play judge, jury, and executioner.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 11
Kudos: 105





	a stranger stares back

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this tubbo [tweet](https://twitter.com/TubboLive/status/1333166932472762369?s=20)
> 
> cw for mentions of explosions, (wilbur's) implied death, blood. also, brief mention of tubbo having an identity crisis. i'm not sure if that could be counted as dissassociation, but if you're sensitive to that, be careful around "the truth is".

The words echo again inside his head. “As long as Tommy’s Vice President, there can’t be peace.” They’re matter-of-fact. Objective. He stands behind the podium, hands gripping the wooden edge so hard that his knuckles are white.

There are two facts that Tubbo knows. One, exile is far too harsh of a punishment for arson, even if it’s the home of the king. Mild griefing has long gone uncontrolled on the server, and he’s sure that this isn’t actually about Tommy needing to face consequences. Two, Dream is unfeeling and uncaring and far too powerful. No matter how much control Tubbo has, he knows that Dream pulls the strings. His ultimatum is unreasonable, but what can a mere mortal do?

They’ve been trying to rebuild, you know. The ground is pockmarked with craters from the TNT explosions. No one has touched the button room since, but when Tubbo closes his eyes, he can still see Wilbur in the now-exposed room, unhinged, vainglorious. Still see Wilbur crumpled in Phil’s arms, unmoving. He was too far away to be sure, but he’s can guess there’s still blood splattered across the rough-hewn dirt floor. 

The canal walls were broken, and for the first few days, the water ran haphazard and rampant across the land. But they’ve filled in the holes with soil, and they’ve started to set the foundations for new buildings. Their country, new and fragile, cannot take another war.

There’s a third fact, actually. Tubbo knows that Dream’s words are true. Tommy glares at him from behind his cage of obsidian, fingers wrapped around iron bars. His eyes are angry and ice-cold and defiant, and Tubbo can’t look at him anymore.

It’s hard. Tommy is his best friend, always has been, since the founding of L’Manberg. Tommy’s always had a penchant for fire, for explosives, for saying the all wrong things at the all wrong times. _All in good fun, Big T,_ he would chuckle, clapping a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder.

Tubbo has always been by his side, defending him quietly. From the sidelines. He knows that Tommy is chaotic at heart, that he can’t control it. He’s brash, bold, and always a little too loud for his own good. And trouble just seems to find him.

Right before Tommy got sworn in as Vice President, he pulled Tubbo aside. He took both of Tubbo’s hands in his, and when he looked into Tommy’s eyes, he could see something that was foreign, unfamiliar. Fear.

Tommy starts rambling in that quick, messy way he does. His bright blue eyes dart around the room, looking anywhere but directly at Tubbo.

“Hey, Big T. Are you sure I can do this? You know, when it was just me and Wilbur, he pulled me aside.” Tommy takes a long, shuddery breath. “I’m not sure when he started—” He breaks off then, head ducking low. 

Tubbo squeezes his hands tighter. He hopes it’s reassuring. It must work, because Tommy continues. “When he started going downhill, but he told me something. He told me that it wasn’t a challenge, it was just the truth.” Tommy pauses. “That I could never be president.” 

He looks up then, straight at Tubbo. There’s that fear again, but also something else. A steely glint of determination, a burning need to prove that he’s good and he’s _right._

Tubbo sighs. “Look, Tommy. You’re my best friend. I couldn’t think of anyone better for this position.”

Tommy’s face breaks into a huge, genuine smile, and he pulls Tubbo into a hug. Tubbo thinks about how long it’s been since he’s seen that smile, and he tucks his head into the crook of Tommy’s neck.

In the back of his mind, Tubbo wonders when he started lying to him.

He thinks Wilbur may be right. Tommy loves too big, too loud, and his love is all-encompassing. He cares so much for his friends and his country that it makes his field of vision narrow, makes him single-minded. As much as Tubbo loves him, he knows that Tommy is not fit to lead. 

He still makes Tommy the vice president though, because Tubbo has unwavering faith. 

Standing in front of the podium, playing judge, Tubbo wonders just how far that faith can go. 

And although he’s supposed to be unbiased, he fears that Tommy has fallen too deep. That no matter how hard Tubbo pushes his fingers into the pock-marked earth, no matter how fast and how long he tries to shovel the dirt away, he can’t dig Tommy out of this hole.

It hurts, knowing that he can’t do anything. That Tommy is waiting on him expectantly, being stubborn and resolute because that’s always what he does. That’s just the character Tommy plays. Tubbo tends to forget this, because Tommy’s always seemed larger than life, but he’s even younger than Tubbo is. Probably just as scared. And to compensate, he’s loud, chaotic. Acts bigger than he really is, because the world that he’s been thrown into is harsh and unknowable.

Tubbo swears he sees a glimpse of Dream’s mask within the trees outside the courthouse. He brings up his hands to rub his vision clear, and his fingertips come away wet. Through his blurred vision, he can just barely see Tommy. He can just barely make out the defiance in the hunch of Tommy’s shoulders, the roiling sea of fear and uncertainty that lies underneath.

Tommy is still his best friend.

He’s played so many roles. Patriot, soldier, secretary, spy, victim. President. And within some part of him, he knows he’s far too young, that he’s grown up too fast. He’s only sixteen, and he’s the fucking president of a country. But he’s never known anything different, never been able to escape the overwhelming, suffocating feeling of responsibility.

Tubbo doesn’t know when he stopped visiting the gardens every day to talk with the bees. He doesn’t know when his eyes got so sharp, when dark, heavy bags started appearing under them.

The truth is, he can’t save Tommy.

The truth is, sometimes, when he looks at himself in mirrors, he can’t recognize the person who stares back.

But he’s still Tubbo.

He’s still Tubbo.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> hey! glad to see you here. thank you for reading & i hope you enjoyed :]
> 
> a few things, because i'm shameless enough for excessively long endnotes for a 1k fic:
> 
> first, i'm aware that this is being posted after the exile decision has been made. i have an inability to finish tasks in a timely manner (sorry!). that being said i did want to explore them as characters on the smp, and the exile trial was just so interesting it brought me out of a months-long writers block :]
> 
> as i've mentioned, this was inspired by that tubbo tweet. i've been writing this mostly at 2am in very sporadic bursts, and i honestly don't recall anything about the process. it was fun though!
> 
> this was my first time writing within a fandom other than haikyuu. i debated with myself for days on whether it was ethical to write about mcyters, but then i realized that this is pure fiction about block men on a minecraft server. if you want to have a moral debate, i'm not interested unless you pay me money (/hj).
> 
> twitter [@oyakudon](https://twitter.com/oyakudon). please. i want more mcyt friends.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Silenced](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401402) by [Meaningless_Mayhem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meaningless_Mayhem/pseuds/Meaningless_Mayhem)




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